


Start Wearing Purple

by DarcyDelaney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Concert, Destiel - Freeform, First Meeting, Fluff, High School, M/M, Mentions of Blood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-03
Packaged: 2018-03-21 00:02:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3669975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarcyDelaney/pseuds/DarcyDelaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, Cas knows that he shouldn’t have gone to that concert. But if he hadn’t, he never would’ve met his knight in shining armor--or in this case, well-worn flannel--Dean Winchester. He also wouldn’t have gotten his nose broken, but that’s beside the point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start Wearing Purple

**A/N:** Another fic inspired by a tumblr post, huzzah! This time, it's from [this one](http://tokiosunset.tumblr.com/post/105774914690). Hope you enjoy :)

 

* * *

In retrospect, Cas knows that he shouldn’t have gone to that concert.

In retrospect, he should have kicked Gabriel right out of his room the second he suggested going to see a band who had the word “bordello” in their name, but like always, his brother had gotten to him.

_“C’mon, Castiel, don’t you want to do something fun for once in your life?”_

_“Their name’s not inappropriate, you dick! It’ll be a good time. A little brother-brother bonding before the first day at a new school, eh? Whaddaya say?”_

In retrospect, Cas should’ve spent the night before his first day at a new school the same way he’s spent all the nights before his first day at a new school: listening to music and trying not to have a panic attack.

Instead, he’s crammed in with at least 300 other sweat-soaked people in a smelly music club that he’s almost 100% sure is breaking at least three different fire and capacity safety codes. The band’s set is in full swing, and the lead singer has already stripped down to just a pair of jeans, twirling the microphone and cord around like a lasso as he screams the lyrics into the crowd, and they scream right back at him.

Cas hasn’t moved voluntarily since they arrived; his plan is to just let himself be moved by the masses in the hopes of not getting hurt or potentially trampled to death. There have been a few rocky moments, but Cas is fairly certain that he’ll be able to make it out of this alive--until the lead singer takes a long swig of beer, tilts his head up and spits it back out like a whale shooting water out of its blowhole, and careening into the next song. The crowd goes even crazier than they already were, and Cas suddenly finds himself in the middle of the makings of a mosh pit.

That’s it; he’s gotta get out of here.

“Gabriel!” he yells through the din of the club, craning his neck to try and find his brother. “Gabriel, I need to leave!” But Gabriel’s nowhere in sight, and Cas mutters a few choice words under his breath, wishing more than anything that he was back home in his nice, warm bed and not getting pummelled by random people who smell like they haven’t showered in a week. Someone shoves into his side, hard, as he turns toward the exit, and he looks back just in time to see someone else’s arm come flying backward, slamming right square into his nose.

Cas cries out in pain as his body collapses to the floor, not really sure what just happened, or what he should do next. His whole face is tingling, his nose is on fire, and he starts to feel faint at the sight of blood dripping steadily onto his shirt and jeans.

“Christ, Winchester, watch it!” a voice yells above the music, and Cas’ eyelids flutter as he tries to regain his composure as well as remain conscious. He presses one hand over his nose and uses the other to start scrambling backward across the beer-soaked floor. He has to get out of here. Sticky, warm blood is trickling through his fingers and he prays that nobody steps on his hand; the last thing he needs is a broken finger or three on top of a broken nose.

Someone wraps their fingers around his elbow and is hauling him to his feet. Gabriel. When he’s not losing a massive amount of blood, he’s going to chew his older brother out like there’s no tomorrow. He keeps his head down as Gabriel leads him out into the club’s lobby, his blood leaving a drip-drop trail as they walk. A door is shoved open and Cas looks up just enough to see that they’re in the--thankfully empty--bathroom. He wrenches himself out of his brother’s grip and stumbles toward the block of sinks against the wall.

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid concert, Gabriel!” Cas seethes, watching as his blood drips down into the already-disgusting sink in the bathroom. As he takes in the rust stains, yellowed blotches, and weird fuzzy mold wrapped around the drain, Cas decides that his blood is the least of this sink’s worries, and shifts his focus back to berating his brother. “And now I have to go start school tomorrow with this?”

Cas grips the edges of the sink and looks up into the smudged mirror bolted to the wall to aim a contemptuous glare at his brother. When he does, though, he realizes that it’s not Gabriel standing behind him, but a boy he’s never met before. He looks about Cas’ age, a little skinny, with dirty blonde hair that mussed up from sweat. His hands are jammed deep into the pockets of his jeans, and his head is tilted to the side, a look of confusion and amusement on his face. Even in the dim lighting of the bathroom, Cas can see his bright green eyes shine, and he suddenly feels even more lightheaded than he already did.

The boy gives him a crooked smile. “Shit, I guess I’m glad I’m not that Gabriel guy.”  

Cas whirls around to face the boy instead of just his reflection, and his hands fly back to cover his nose again. “I...I’m sorry, I thought you--”

He pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds them in front of him with a quick laugh. “Why the hell are you apologizing to me? _I’m_ the one who hit _you_ , remember?” He pauses, and his eyes go wide. “Shit. Maybe you don’t remember.” He peers at Cas, his bright green eyes narrowing in concentration before holding up three fingers. “How many?”

“I have a broken nose, not a concussion,” Cas says, his words muffled by his hands. The boy doesn’t respond and keeps the fingers up, so Cas sighs. “Three.”

He seems satisfied and moves his hand to his back pocket. It reappears with what looks like a balled-up napkin, and for a split second, Cas is struck with the fear that he lost a tooth from the hit, as well, and starts frantically running his tongue over his teeth to check for gaps.

“Wait, you’re the one who hit me?” Cas asks, the boy’s earlier confession finally taking root in his brain.

“Tilt your head back,” the boy says in reply, and Cas obeys without a second thought. He reaches forward and gently nudges Cas’ hands aside before pressing the napkin against Cas’ nose, and Cas twitches a little at the sudden cold.

It might also have had something to do with the boy’s soft flannel shirt brushing up against his bare arm and hands as he applied the makeshift ice pack, but nobody needs to know that.

“Got some ice from the bar,” he explains, giving Cas a small smile. “Gotta keep the swelling down.” He pauses again, and Cas watches, a little more infatuated than he’d like to admit, as the boy worries his lower lip with his teeth.

“Listen, man,” he says suddenly. “I’m really sorry about this. I never...I didn’t mean...shit, that must fuckin’ hurt, huh?”

“Just a little,” Cas says, and his heart swells as the boy grins again. “You really don’t have to do this, though, it’s--”

The boy waves his words away. “Come on, man, the least I can do is make sure you’re okay after fucking up your face.” Cas can feel the boy’s eyes roaming over his face, and before he knows it, the boy’s gently picked up one of his wrists and is replacing his hand with Cas’ own to hold the napkin in place. He takes a few steps back and studies Cas, who straightens, pressing the ice a little harder against his throbbing nose.

“You shouldn’t need to go to the hospital, if that’s any consolation.” He shrugs. “I had to once. That shit sucks.”

Cas nods, wishing he could channel Gabriel’s flirting ability that he somehow never managed to get a firm grasp on. Granted, he never really wanted a firm grasp on it, but now, he wants nothing more than to flirt with the boy who just accidentally bashed his face in.

“Good to know,” he finally gets out.

Their conversation is interrupted as bass from the show starts thumping through the bathroom when the band launches into their next song, something with a chorus encouraging people to start wearing purple. Cas recognizes the lyrics from Gabriel marching through the house belting it at the top of his lungs for two weeks straight, and rolls his eyes.

“Looks like you’ll be wearing purple now, too, huh?”

“What?”

“You know…” The boy gestures toward Cas’ nose, which is starting to bruise a nasty purple and blue. “The song’s called ‘[Start Wearing Purple](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SkkIwO_X4i4),’ your bruise is purple…” He trails off as Cas’ face remains blank. “You know what, never mind.”

Cas smiles, and his smile only grows bigger when he notices the boy’s cheeks start to flush a little. “Thank you…” He waits, hoping that the boy will get the hint and fill in the gap.

“Dean."

“Dean,” Cas repeats, liking the way the name sounds on his tongue.

“And you’re welcome…” Dean looks at him expectantly and motions for Cas to finish the sentence.

“Cas.”

“Cas.” Dean gives him one more grin before adding, “Guess I won’t be seeing you around too many other shows, huh?”

Cas considers this, then shrugs. “Probably not like this, no. Maybe something...calmer.”

Dean chuckles. He buries his hands back in his pockets and studies his scuffed Converse for a few seconds before looking up at Cas, and when he does, Cas swears that he almost looks shy. “Listen, Cas, I gotta...my little brother’s in there, and my dad’ll--”

Cas nods. “It’s fine. Thank you for checking on me.”

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure. My brother is around here somewhere, too; I should probably find him at some point.”

Dean points at him. “Gabriel,” he says, and Cas smiles.

“Gabriel.”

Dean nods and starts making his way toward the bathroom door. “Do me a favor, Cas,” he says. “Don’t beat ‘im up too bad. After all, if he didn’t drag you to this show, I never would’ve elbowed you in the face, and then we never would’ve met.”

Cas’ opens his mouth to respond, his cheeks burning, but before he can think of anything to add, Dean pushes open the door, gives him a quick wink, and is gone.

 

* * *

After an obsessive morning in front of the mirror with Anna’s makeup and a baggie of ice, Cas is fairly certain that he’s ready for his first day at Truman High. His nose looks less than perfect, but after countless reassurances from his mother, he’s deemed it acceptable and starts his walk to school.

Cas’ heart is in his throat by the time he makes it to the school, but the lack of stares or jeers with every step makes him start to calm down. He’s been through worse; he can do this. He’s Castiel Novak, and he’s getting a fresh start. Nobody knows him here; he can reinvent himself into anyone he wants, something people wish they could do all the time. _Yeah._

He keeps his pep talk going as he walks through the badly faded double doors leading into the school. _It’ll be great, Cas. Maybe you could even join the track team, burn off some nervous energy that Mom says you’re full of all the time. Nobody’s staring at you, everything’s fine, nobody cares, nobody knows you--_

Cas has almost convinced himself of this fact when his blue eyes lock with a pair of green ones from down the hall.

_Oh my god._

Dean looks even more surprised to see him, but he doesn’t just drop everything, run to Cas, tackle him to the ground, and start making out with him (which Cas may or may not have wished to happen). Instead, he finishes the conversation he’s having with a short, redheaded girl whose backpack is covered with pins and keychains before heading over to him. He flashes Cas his stupid, brilliantly crooked smile, and Cas can already feel his cheeks reddening again.

“It doesn’t look too bad!” he says in greeting, and he almost sounds a little relieved.

“I know more about my sister’s makeup now than I ever wanted to,” Cas says, hefting his backpack up a little higher on his shoulders, because shit, what else is he supposed to do?

Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Seriously, I’d have no idea that you just got your nose bashed in by some asshole at a concert.”

“You’re not an asshole, Dean.” It comes out quickly, and Cas finds himself hoping that it wasn’t said too quickly.

Judging by Dean’s nervous little smile and the way his skin flushes under the freckles brushed across the bridge of his nose (which, how the hell did Cas not notice those last night?), Cas said it just fine.

“Please tell me you haven’t been going here since freshman year,” Dean says, “or else I really will feel like an asshole.”

Cas shakes his head. “My family just moved here. Today’s my first day.”

Dean’s eyes brighten at this, and he starts down the hallway, motioning for Cas to follow him. “Sophomore?” he asks.

“Mhmm.”

“There we go.” Dean smacks a closed locker in victory as they pass. “So, let me run something by you.” He looks to Cas for permission to continue.

“Okay.”

“In an effort to make amends for my shitty elbows, can I show you around? Help you learn the ropes of this hellhole?”

Cas has to stop himself from replying before the entire offer is out of Dean’s mouth, but once it is, he wastes no time in giving him a small, shy smile, one Gabriel had told him years ago makes peoples’ hearts melt. Or at least, makes them do whatever Cas wants.

“I’d like that.”

Dean’s crooked smile is back, and Cas wants to reach up and trace Dean’s lips with the pads of his fingers before pressing his own lips against them, but he doesn’t.

He figures that can wait until after lunch, at least.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally sure if Dean would dig Gogol Bordello or not, but I experienced a mosh pit for the first time at one of their shows, so I figured I'd include them here, too.


End file.
